


Forty Two

by SPNFinalSeason (TheMightiestPen)



Series: Birthdays [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dean Winchester-centric, Family, Gen, Happy Birthday Dean!, In my mind he's not dead at this point, It's just a happy fun birthday, Post-Season/Series 15, Season/Series 15, Season/Series 15 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28963479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightiestPen/pseuds/SPNFinalSeason
Summary: Dean turns forty two. He never thought he’d make it this far.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Birthdays [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2124366
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Forty Two

Dean wakes up slowly.

His eyes open some time around 8 but he only really starts getting up around 8:30. He takes that half hour to just…lie there, relax, not think about anything.

Well. Except for the fact that he’s forty two today.

Dean shakes his head ( _never thought I’d make it past thirty_ ) and levers himself out of bed, rubbing his eyes. He hears the scratching at the door, the snuffling making its way through the wood. In his world, that’s usually a sign of danger. Now, it’s just Miracle.

He smiles.

* * *

Dean walks into the kitchen in a bathrobe and is greeted with the smell of pancakes. He looks over to see an already prepared plate with a stack on pancakes, with some maple syrup convieniently placed right next to it.

“Hey,” Sam pops out from behind the counter, holding up a dish towel in a wave. “Happy birthday! I heard your shower go so I made you birthday breakfast.”

“I can see that,” Dean says, sitting down at the table. He doesn’t quite know how to react. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” Sam tosses the towel over one shoulder then joins him at the table. “Forty two, man!”

“Forty two,” Dean echoes, shaking his head. Miracle bounds into the kitchen at that moment, making a beeline for Dean, eyes begging for some of the birthday breakfast. “Should do this more often if I get food out of it. Except, wait,” He lifts his fork and spears a piece off, popping it into his mouth. “Acceptable,” He says around the mouthful, spraying crumbs. “I hope you know you’ll get put on breakfast duty more often.”

Sam’s nose wrinkles about the crumbs, but doesn’t say anything about them. Birthdays are _awesome_. “Don’t hold your breath,” He says dryly. “Special occasions only. Getting deeper into your forties is a special occasion.”

Dean laughs, grabbing the maple syrup. “You got me there, waiter boy” He nods at the shoulder towel, squeezing the bottle over his pancakes. “So. Got anything today?”

Sam blinks. “You’re…you wanna work on your birthday?”

Dean pauses mid cut. “Yeah?” He says, watching the syrup drip off the pancakes and onto the plate. “It’s just a day, dude. Evil’s still out there.”

“I…I guess,” Sam says, and Dean gets back to his food. “Okay, then. I’ll start looking.”

He whips out his phone, presumably for some research, while Dean concentrates on his breakfast. Unexpectedly, he gets hit with a wave of contentment. Food, family, the job he’s good at that does good for others…what more could he ask for?

He’s pulled out of his thoughts as Sam’s phone begins to ring, interrupting his research. Sam looks up, gesturing at his phone. “It’s Jody.”

* * *

There’s been some disappearances, apparently. Jody caught a case somewhere close by and she can’t quite figure out what’s going on. All she knows is that there’s no trace of any of the people left behind except for a pile of salt, which she thinks sounds like one of their specialties.

Dean agrees. “Okay,” He says, after he’d finished eating and gotten dressed (Sam insisted). “We ready to head out, then?”

“Yeah,” Sam says, putting the final plate away. “I just gotta get some stuff we might need…just in case we need to do a ritual. You sure you’re down for work today?”

“Aw, it’s Jody, man,” Dean says, patting his pockets, looking for his car keys. “I wanna go help. It’ll be nice to see everyone anyway. And since when do we not work on birthdays?”

Sam walks out of the kitchen, tossing a look over his shoulder. “I guess,” He says, and Dean follows. “But, you know. We should do something when we get back. Cake?”

“Yeah!” Dean says, speeding up to walk in step with Sam. “Now you’re talking! I’m also open to birthday pie.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Not surprised,” He says, opening the door to his room.

“And don’t worry about birthday activities,” Dean says, struck by inspiration. “You can make it up to me by taking me to that strip club in town.”

Sam pauses mid step through the door. “Aw, come on,” He says. “Why would you wanna go to one with me? I still don’t get that.”

Dean grins. “Hey, better two weirdo middle aged dudes at the strip club than just one. The creep factor decreases that way.”

“I’m not even forty yet,” Sam says, affronted.

“Middle aged is middle aged, dude,” Dean says. “I’ll also take forty one singles, by the way. Need some ones if we’re doing strip clubs.”

“Just go get ready,” Sam says, long-suffering, and closes the door in Dean’s face.

* * *

The drive is leisurely. The urgency that usually accompanies them on the road is absent today, and it’s nice to just drive and enjoy the journey for what it is. Miracle’s enjoying the drive too, and Dean’s glad that Sam insisted they take him along, arguing that he’d be very popular with the girls at Jody’s. Dean doesn’t disagree.

The roads are clear and they make it in good time—despite a stilted start, as Sam had forgotten to load the gear he’d wanted to get and made Dean wait in the car for him to get it—and get to Jody’s with plenty of time to spare. Dean parks near the driveway and gets out, shaking off pins and needles and watching his breath fog up in the late January air. Miracle bounds right for the front door with Sam close behind, and Jody opens it with a large smile.

“Nice to see you boys,” She says, gesturing them in. “Come on, it’s cold out.”

Sam leans in for a quick hug and hurries in, while Dean takes his time. “Good to see you too,” He says, getting his own hug in. She pats him on the back, releases him, then leads him into the house. “So, what about this case—?”

He doesn’t finish the sentence because he’s met with a chorus of “SURPRISE!” as he walks into the living room, which is full of balloons and streamers and a large group clustered around the door: Donna and the girls but also Garth and those few rare faces that Dean is always happy to see. Sam is among the crowd, the rare shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

He’s rooted in place, moving feels impossible. “What’s—“

“We planned it!” Donna says, as ever the most excited in the room. “We’ve been planning since Sam called us a couple weeks back. Lure you here with a fake case, then surprise you with cake! Happy birthday, hun. You deserve it!”

Dean blinks, looks towards the table. Among the assorted snacks (rice crispie treats…Dean thinks Sam’s responsible for that one) and drinks (that looks like the _good_ whiskey) is a large chocolate cake, the Batman symbol displayed proudly in the middle in icing.

Claire follows his gaze. “Yeah,” She says, as Jody gently pushes him into the room. “Between the Rice Krispies and the Batman cake, the lady at the counter asked us how old the ‘lucky kid’, was turning today. And, well,” she gestures at the cake. “We couldn’t resist.

Dean walks closer, squinting at red letters. The words “Happy 6th Birthday, Dean!” are written in loopy scrawl across the top.

“That’s four plus two,” Kaia helpfully pipes up. “But Claire said you wouldn’t want to look at your actual age, so…”

“No respect,” Dean chokes out, and they all gracefully pretend not to notice the tears that form in his eyes.

* * *

They stay for hours.

Dean’s happy where he is but he always forgets how much he loves being in a space that’s full, being around people he can laugh with and talk to and seeing a space fill with multiple conversations that weave into one another. At some point, though, he knows it’s time to leave. He says his goodbyes, accepts the tinfoil wrapped food and remains of cake that Jody pushes towards him, gathers up Sam and Miracle, and makes his way out the door. He’s buzzed and Sam knows that, so by unspoken agreement Sam holds his hands out for the keys and Dean silently hands them over.

He’s riding on the high of the sugar and the alcohol and the contentment and is happy to sit in the silence, dozing off, until he feels a hand shaking his shoulder. His eyes open to the setting sun on the horizon of a huge lake, and Sam carrying fishing gear with a cooler at his feet. “If you’re interested,” He says, gesturing at the gear. “We still have some light left.”

It takes Dean’s mind a second to catch up with his eyes, but he gets there eventually. “Knew I’d get you to do this,” He says, levering up out of his seat. “Let’s see you how you’ll last.”

“You’d be surprised,” Sam says, but Dean knows his brother and knows what he has little patience for, so he knows the effort being made here. As Sam gathers the chairs and lamp and poles, Dean realizes the extent of the effort at hand.

“This is what you made me wait in the car for,” He says, shaking his head. “You pretended to forget the hunting stuff so I wouldn’t see it.”

Sam laughs, dragging the cooler. “Yeah,” He says, as Dean grabs the box of tackle. “Thought it might be a good idea. I gotta say, though, I was expecting to convince you to do the hunt. Which is why I got Jody to call and ask us to do it. I didn’t know you’d be all for doing a job today with no effort on my part.”

“Glad I could surprise you,” Dean says, starting to set up at the edge of the lake. He flips open the cooler, sees the beers, nods in approval. “Let’s see how long we can last in this weather.”

Sam nods, sitting in one of the chairs. “Pass me the stuff,” He says.

Dean hands him what he needs, starts preparing his own. He looks out at the water, at the reflection off the sun on the still surface, and is hit with the contentment again. It’s happening more and more these days, and sooner rather than later it’s going to stop being a surprise.

He looks at Sam. “Thank you,” He says, mind scrambling to try to express it fully without being embarrassing. It isn’t working.

Sam knows him, though. “Not every day you turn forty two,” He says with a knowing smile. “Had to do something about it, right?”

Dean sits down in the other chair, sets his gear up, and casts his line. “Thanks,” He says again.

They sit there as the minutes tick by , listening to the sound of the small waves lapping up at the edge. Dean doesn’t think they’ll catch anything, not in the time they have, but maybe—

The quiet is broken suddenly, eventually, as the water seems to explode in front of them, and something lands on Dean’s lap. Something large and slimy and violent.

Dean drops his pole and startles so hard he falls on his chair and onto the ground, wrestling with the creature than continues to writhe and wriggle and Dean just can’t get a grip on it…

The weight disappears and he sees Sam above him, grabbing the thing and shoving it away from him. He bolts up, ready to help, and then is stopped in his tracks as he sees Sam wrestle down…a fish. A comically large fish. A fish that is absolutely not native to the area that they’re in.

Sam noticed this too. “That’s a white sturgeon,” He says, stunned, as the fish continues to fight valiantly. Dean snaps out of it, leaps into the fray. “There’s no way…it’s impossible, based on where we are…”

He cuts off abruptly, and Dean looks up from the struggling fish to see the color drain from Sam’s face. “What?” He asks, suddenly worried. If something goes wrong today…. “What is it?”

“I prayed,” Sam says. “I…I prayed to Jack today. I told him I was gonna try to take you out fishing today. I told him it was your birthday. I…do you think…”

The lump’s returned back to Dean’s throat. They don’t talk about it as much as they used to, but Dean still sees Sam run his fingers down the names on the table when he thinks Dean doesn’t notice. The losses they’ve gained recently still haven’t hit home, the glaring absence of both Jack and Cas from the bunker still feels unnatural, even months later. But maybe that absence isn’t as complete as he thought it was.

Dean swallows, looks up at the setting sun. “Thanks, kid,” He says, giving a short nod. “For making forty two a good one.”

He sees Sam blinking back watery eyes (but he’s smiling) and sighs into a smile of his own. For Winchester birthdays, this one probably ranked up there.

Maybe it’s his eyes playing tricks on him, but he thinks he sees the setting sun flicker in response.


End file.
